


Whumptober 2019 - Marvel

by HeartOfStars



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, In This House We Hate Infinity War, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Peter Parker, POV Tony Stark, Peter Parker Also Needs A Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tearjerker, Thor Being A Ray Of Sunshine, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: Whumptober prompts featuring Marvel characters.Day 5: Gunpoint--Tony saves Peter from someone who--guess what?--hates Iron Man.Day 12: "Don't Move"--Infinity War AU: Peter survives the snap.Day 23: Bleeding Out--Tony's last moments, a few years before, and a surprise encounter after. Kleenex warning.Day 28: Beaten--Another Infinity War AU: Loki saves Thor before Thanos has officially defeated the Asgardians.





	1. Day 5: Gunpoint

**Author's Note:**

> Pretending Endgame and Far From Home never happened.

The objective had been simple enough: find the rest of Edwin Cord’s guys, steal the assets back, and blow the place to hell. 

Tony had beaten Cord himself; it’d made for a pretty wild Friday night, even for his standards, but once Rhodey disabled Cord’s power system, the guy had been helpless against Tony’s tech. There seemed to be more and more of those jealous moguls who thought Tony had cheated them out of something, but at least they weren’t hard to knock out of the park. It was ridiculous how those guys all seemed to repeat the same mistakes: overconfidence, fallible technology, and dependence on rookie guards. 

The first two were expected, but that last point was an insult to his intelligence. If he had to deal with one more sleeping guy guarding the power system, he’d leave the next mission entirely in Rhodey’s hands. 

And then there was this. He’d thought he was done with Cord, then he’d gotten an assignment from Ross; turns out they wanted _ him _ to root out the rest of Cord’s guys, rather than a low-level hero or even the police, who could’ve done it just as well. That was even worse of an insult. He was Tony Stark; he’d taken out terrorists, invented new elements, (destroyed a city, don’t think about that one), fought Captain America _ and _the Winter Soldier at the same time; and for god’s sake, he’d thrown a nuke into freaking outer space. 

But Ross was barely tolerating him now, so he’d better go out and at least pretend he was obeying the Accords. 

According to the intel reports he’d received that morning, Cord’s main back-up guy--or something--was Ethan Rooker, who was holed up with some of the other boys at a place in South Manhattan, allegedly an old Irish bar. After drinking a full pot of coffee, Tony suited up and took off for the bar. 

“Hey, FRIDAY,” he said with a yawn, “you up and running?”

“More than you are, Mr. Stark,” came the reply. 

Tony blinked. His AI was getting more sarcastic by the day. 

“Great. Fine. Can you get me anything on one Ethan Rooker?”

“One moment, Mr. Stark.” There was a brief silence, in whichTony thought about how much he hated awkward pauses. “Rooker is American-born, but was raised in Afghanistan; he emigrated at the age of seventeen. No record of personal life. He was a brilliant child, but was refused admittance to MIT.” 

Tony snorted. “And here I thought Cord was the one who was jealous. Already we’re racking up some serious envy points: he can’t go to MIT, I graduate at seventeen and become a billionaire--”

“In all fairness, you did inherit that position.”

“Thank you for your honesty. I guess someone needs to keep me in check. So, no MIT, no family connections; and then I blew up an entire terrorist organization, which, since he’s technically American, he’d probably wanted to do his whole life anyway. So I stole his thunder, became a superhero, and put his first-rate felon boss in jail.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Some people find the most ridiculous reasons to hate me, don’t you--”

“Boss!”

FRIDAY’s sudden warning brought Tony’s attention back to the mission, and he lowered the rocket boosters enough to bring him out of the clouds. The skyline of east Manhattan appeared below him, and he grinned. Even with years of experience and a hell-mix of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and just a touch of alcoholism, that sight never failed to be amazing. 

A few seconds later, and the bar was right under him, like magic. 

“All right, FRIDAY,” he said. “We’re going in.”

~

The bar was empty. 

That was the first sign that something was really wrong. 

Tony had crashed down, straight through the ceiling--just like they were on live TV--but when the dust cleared, there was nothing. No security guards, no Rooker, no back-up...not even a few terrified bartenders. It was empty. Of course, there was the possibility that someone could have seen him coming and run away, but that was unlikely. His timing had been too perfect(thanks to FRIDAY, he had to admit). No one would’ve had time to run without him seeing them…

So that meant this was a trap. 

“Come on, Rooker,” he said loudly. “I’m here, and I know you are, too. Show yourself now, and you’ll just go straight to prison. But if you keep playing games like this, I swear I’ll--” 

Tony stopped mid-sentence. The back door was opened. 

The metal of his suit clanking as he walked, Tony hurried to the back of the bar, past tables and chairs and expensive wine glasses--why he had to waste his time on _ this, _he had no idea--seized the back door, ripped it off…

And there, in the alley behind the bar, was Ethan Rooker.

But he wasn’t alone. There were four guys behind him, and to his left...oh, god. To his left, kneeling in the dirt, hands bound behind his back, with a gun held to his forehead, was Peter Parker.

Peter turned at the sound, his eyes widening. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he stammered quickly, “I-I didn’t think this was something Iron Man was gonna have to take care of, just a little neighborhood problem, I could figure it out. I-I mean, he was terrorizing a bunch of kids! I didn’t think--”

The words tumbled out one after another in that too-fast, overly earnest way of Peter’s that was usually so irritating. Usually. But not today. 

“Oh, shut up,” Rooker snapped, pressing the gun tighter against Peter’s forehead. “You see, Stark, you can’t lock _ me _away.”

“Why’s that?” Tony knew he probably shouldn’t sound so rude, but he couldn’t help it. The kid was right there--one twitch of Rooker’s finger, and he’d be...no. No, don’t think about that. Stop it. Fix it. “Want me to add threatening a sixteen-year-old kid with murder to your list of charges? Wouldn’t look good in court, I can tell you that.”

Rooker laughed. “You think I’m going to court? It’d be pointless. You’re here, and you’re pissed, which is why I’m willing to bet that this is an Accords-sanctioned assignment. They wouldn’t have put Barnes through the legal system, they won’t do the same for me.”

Tony laughed bitterly. “You’re comparing yourself to the Winter Soldier? He’d have killed you by now, and without breaking a sweat.”

“I’m doing no such thing. But my trial isn’t going to be fair...which is why I’ve got insurance.” His finger tightened on the trigger; Peter flinched. Tony’s hands clenched at his side. “One step forward, and he’s…” Rooker shrugged. “Well, you know.”

That callous shrug almost got Rooker killed then and there. Before he knew it, Tony was keying up his guns. “So you think I can’t take you in and save him?”

“Not a chance.” Rooker laughed. “You need me alive, Stark. Those precious world leaders don’t want you killing somebody else, or they’ll lock you up in the Raft, just like half the Avengers. You can’t afford to kill me.”

Tony glared at him through the mask. “Wanna bet?”

“Actually, I do. And I have a better alternative for you. You leave now, I’ll let the kid go in...well. Let’s say twenty minutes. Only once I’m _ sure _you’re away, and that I’m safe.”

“And how do I know _ he’ll _be safe?” Tony demanded. Peter looked up in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Tony to say something quite so...protective? No, that wasn’t the right word. Not nearly. “If I’m back in my penthouse, how do I know you haven’t killed him?”

Rooker smiled. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Careful, boss,” said FRIDAY in his ear. “There’s a forty percent chance he’s lying. There is also a chance that he hates all of the Avengers, not just you--”

_ Which includes the kid, _ was the unspoken rest of the sentence. _ And I can’t take those odds. _

Tony clenched his fists again, the metal creaking; he had no idea what to do. He looked at Rooker, so smugly confident in himself, at the four bodyguards, ready for an attack...and then at the kid. For some stupid reason, he knew with an absolute certainty that he did not want Peter Parker to die. The desperate look on Peter’s face was enough to tell him that.

Sure, the world needed Iron Man. But how could it count on him, when he only had a solid moral compass four out of seven days of the week? 

The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was just as important. If not more.

“Stark,” Rooker said again, looking unsure that Tony had heard him; he _ was _anxious, even if he didn’t show it. “I said, you’ll have to trust me. Is that clear?”

Tony looked up, staring down Rooker; and then, thinking back to Afghanistan, he turned off his hand blasters...and instead selected five out of six targets he wanted dead. 

“Nope,” he said. “Definitely not clear.”

The most Rooker could do was gasp in shock as Tony’s shoulder guns shot him and his goons dead. 

Peter, no doubt surprised beyond anything he’d ever seen, began gasping for breath; adrenaline, Tony diagnosed. He’d had a rush of adrenaline, preparing himself to die, and now he wasn’t dead--and someone else was--so, boom. Loss of adrenaline, leads to exhaustion. 

In an instant, Tony lifted his face mask and hurried to Peter’s side. 

“Hey,” he said, and Peter’s head snapped toward him, eyes still wide. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” The gauntlets vanished at his command, and then he was able to free the kid’s hands. 

Peter immediately started rubbing his wrists, which were chafed red. Second diagnosis--Rooker had died too quickly. “Wow. Uh--uh, wow, Mr. Stark. Uh, uh, thanks?”

“Don’t have to thank me. Heroes save people, and you know that. From experience.” Tony finished looking Peter’s body over, and then turned the kid’s head to face him. “Tell me honestly, you okay? Don’t you dare lie to me, I’m gonna know.”

“I...I think so, yeah.” Peter’s rapid breaths were becoming less and less frequent, slowing down; that was a good sign. Great sign. “Just, maybe…” He touched a spot on his cheek that Tony realized, belatedly, was a pretty dark bruise. “Hit me here. When I woke up, I--I had a gun to my--” 

Peter’s face went white suddenly, and he stopped talking. Tony knew immediately what was happening; Peter was realizing exactly how close he’d come to dying. 

“You’re okay,” Tony said again, then amended himself; that excuse never worked. “No, sorry. You’re not okay, that’s me lying to you, that’s on me. But here’s the thing, kid.” Peter’s eyes had lost focus; Tony had to turn his head back to him again, or else he knew Peter was going to pass out, or something. And that, he didn’t want to deal with. “Here’s the thing. You’re _ going _to be okay, because it’s over now.”

Peter looked at Rooker’s body, and a tremble shook his frame. “But--”

“Nope. No buts. It’s over.”

Peter sighed. “But you killed him. Doesn’t--doesn’t that--”

“Violate the Accords? One hundred percent. Absolutely. That’s also on me--hey, look! Seems like we’ve found a common theme here: Everything Is Tony’s Fault. Perfect. But…” Tony raised a finger. “I think I’ll be able to get a little leeway here.”

Peter frowned. “Uh, I don’t think it works like that, Mr. Stark.”

“Uh, actually, yes, it does. For me, at least...and for you, ‘cause you’re protected under the Accords, too. So if I saved you, they just might not send me to the Raft.” Tony let himself smile, just briefly. “Oh, and also because I can pay a fine of two hundred or three hundred or even two billion dollars if they want.”

Peter grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess you could do that, Mr. Stark.”

“I definitely can. Hand?” 

Tony held out his hand for Peter to stand, and the kid took it. “Yeah, definitely.”

They stood up; quickly, Tony dusted off Peter’s clothes and took one last look at him. “Yeah, you’re good, kid. Just go ice that bruise, and lie down. Rest.”

“Rest?” Peter exclaimed; Tony rolled his eyes. Here we go again. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many problems I skipped on my way over here? Kids in trouble, cars locked, bank robberies, hostage situations--”

“None of which you will be fixing. Not today, Spiderboy. You need a rest. No more...no superheroing, not today. Tomorrow, maybe. But today you need a rest.”

“But, Mr. Stark--”

“What’d I tell you? No buts.” Tony threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder, helping him walk. “And if I find you sneaking out, I’ll call your aunt.”

“Okay, fine. No...no superheroing, and that’s not a word.”

“Sure it is. I can make up any word I want. I’m Tony Stark.”

Peter laughed. “Maybe.” They walked in silence for a few seconds, and then-- “Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, kid?”

“You were wrong, you know. About before.”

Tony frowned. “Before? Before, what?”

“When you said everything was your fault. It’s not.” Before Tony could say anything, Peter looked up at him with those bright, too-honest expression that somehow had come to mean the world to him. “You tell me not to lie to you, but you’re lying to yourself. You tell yourself everything is your fault, and it isn’t.”

Well. What the hell could he say to that? _ Not everything is your fault. _Weren’t those the words he needed to hear, every hour of every day, after every nightmare and mission and before every breakdown and...and all the time? Yes. Absolutely. 

But he couldn’t say it to the kid, so he settled for slapping Peter’s shoulder.

“First rule of Avenging, kid--only complain up the chain of command. So, nothing I do or think or say to you is wrong. But you can tell the guard at my front door he thinks everything is his fault all day long. Sure he’d love that.” 

“But Avenging isn’t a word either.”

Tony couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Whenever he was around the kid, it was like a miracle; he stopped thinking about New York, Sokovia, Germany, and every other thing he’d ever done that would haunt him forever.

And that meant he could never let him get as close to dying as he had today. 

But instead of say that aloud either, Tony laughed. “God, Pete, I don’t know where you get these lines from, it’s like you’re a constant snark machine.” The physical contact was helping him somehow, he realized. He moved his hand up to Peter’s hair and ruffled it.

“Learned it from you.”

Tony glanced at Peter in surprise. “Now _ that’s _witty. There’s no way I could’ve taught you that.” Taking Peter’s arm, he guided him around the bar and back into the city of Manhattan. “Come on, Spider-Man, let’s get you home.”

  



	2. Day 12: "Don't Move"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infinity War AU: Peter survives the snap. Kleenex warning.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. 

It had only been around five minutes since Thanos had disappeared, taking the wizard's Infinity Stone with him--the Power Stone? No, Time, that was it--but Peter hadn't moved from Mr. Stark's side since. He still couldn't shake the memory of the titan stabbing his mentor, raising the gauntlet for the final blow...

"Pete," Mr. Stark said, no longer gasping for breath but still sounding as if talking cost him effort. "Hey. Hey, Spider-Man." 

In a panic, Peter looked at Mr. Stark. "What's wrong? Do you need help? Is it your wound? Is--" 

"Nothing's wrong, I just need you to move," Stark said, the barest of smiles flickering on his face. "I'm stable now, I'm gonna stand up, but I need you to move." 

"Oh! Oh, right!" Quickly, Peter jumped to his feet and scooted backward. "Here. I'll help you up." 

Peter held out his hand...and then his senses went _off_ like an alarm in his brain, louder than they'd been before. In the distance, he was vaguely aware of Strange helping Mr. Stark up, but he could barely focus. He stumbled backward, frozen--something had happened. Something was wrong. 

And then, a split second later, the bug lady--Mantis?--echoed his exact thoughts. 

"Something's happening," she said, sounding utterly terrified. 

Thunder rumbled again...

And then, Mantis crumbled into dust. 

Peter's ears were ringing again, his sense blaring like crazy...but he didn't know what to do. 

"Quill?" Drax's voice echoed, Peter turned toward him--

Drax was gone. 

Peter's heart was pounding, ringing in his ears. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think--

Mr. Stark was talking behind him, the words like fuzz in Peter's ears...and then the other Peter, Quill, was no longer there. He was dust, too. Peter stepped backward foot by foot, his head spinning. It was obvious what had happened: Thanos had gotten the last Stone--he'd won--

And they'd lost. The Avengers had _lost_.

"...no other way," reached him suddenly, through all the fuzz. Strange. Peter spun toward him suddenly, begging him to stay, for the wizard at least to help them...

No point. Soon he was gone too.

It hit Peter like a truck--the realization that Thanos had wiped half the universe's population off the face of the earth, there was nothing they could do about it--who knew how many of his friends on earth were gone--Ned, May--MJ; and then hands were grabbing his arms, and all his sense could tell him was that he was in danger and everything was wrong, so he flailed, trying to fight whoever it was off--

"Hey! Kid!" Stark. That was Mr. Starks voice, and Peter suddenly realized that the hands belonged to his mentor. "Don't--don't move, Pete."

Peter frowned. "Why--why not?"

"Just look at me, kid. Look at me." Stark sounded more on edge than Peter had ever heard him sound in his life; the man's were wild with...desperation? But why would he be desperate?

Oh, right. Because the world was ending.

That thought threatened to send Peter right back into oblivion again, his head spinning and vision blurring--until he felt Mr. Stark's hand on his arm again. "Me, Spider-Man. Look at me."

In a panic, Peter looked at Mr. Stark. The man's eyes were wide, full of...full of fear. His mentor was terrified, he realized, absolutely terrified...for him.

"There you go," Stark said shakily. "Okay. Okay, now--now--" He blinked, as if trying to remember what he was supposed to say. "Right. You okay, Pete? Feel anything?"

_Feel anything?_ Was Stark crazy? His sense had been going wild for the last two minutes as he watched the Guardians turn into dust, Thanos had won, any minute now he was going to pass out--

"PETER!" Stark's hands tightened on Peter's arms, almost painfully. 

Oh. Oh, he meant "are you okay" as in "are you dying" okay. Okay, that made sense. 

"Yeah," Peter croaked out, his voice sounding weird even in his own ears. "Yeah--yeah, Mr. Stark. I'm good."

"You're...you're good?" Now Mr. Stark looked like he was about to pass out--both of them really needed to lie down, Peter thought absent-mindedly. "You're sure? No--no weakness, no nothing? You're okay?" 

Peter nodded, several times. 

Stark let out a breath, and then another one, and then another, until he was gasping with relief. 

"Okay," he said, more to himself than to Peter. "You're okay, you're okay--"

Peter's gaze wandered to Nebula, who was standing on one of the rocks. Poor Nebula...first her sister, then all her other friends...

But was he sure? What the hell had just happened?

Peter hated to do it to Tony, but he had to ask. Even though it already seemed obvious. 

"Mr. Stark," he said, and Tony's head snapped back to him. 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Did..." Peter swallowed. Dont cry, don't cry, there's no freaking reason to cry. "Did Thanos...did he...?" He couldn't say it. 

Tony's neck muscles strained, and then he sighed.

"Yeah, Pete," he said, sounding more tired than Peter had ever heard anyone sound. "He did." 

Peter expected himself to scream, to cry, to yell, to do something. But he couldn't, he could do nothing but nod, take in the bleak, awful news. 

He felt empty. 

"Okay," he whispered. "He did it. But what about...what about...my aunt?" Now he was really going to cry. He fought it, blinked-- "Ned?" 

That did it. One tear dripped onto his cheeks, followed by another--

And then hands grabbed him--Mr. Stark's--and he was being hugged. Despite the utter surprise of being hugged like that by Iron Man, the physical contact was a release, somehow, of everything building up inside him, so Peter reached up and hugged Tony back. 

"I don't know, kid," Tony said, his voice shaking. "I don't know. I don't know. But at least I've got you." 

Had he meant to say that out loud, the last part? Peter didn't think so. But it was true anyway, and the world had ended, and Iron Man and Spider-Man had each other. 

So Peter hugged Mr. Stark, and cried. 


	3. Day 23: Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last moments of Tony's life. Kleenex warning.

Why didn’t Strange let him die? 

That thought echoed through Tony’s mind hours later, after everyone turned to dust, after he and Nebula fixed up the ship and took off into outer space, after he set to work on the hydraulic converter, searching for some meaningless task to keep him from thinking about the Guardians and Strange and Peter--god, _ Peter _\--and his brain just needs to keep going…

_ Why didn’t he let Thanos finish the job? _

It would have been better; Thanos would have killed Tony, the Stone would be safe, maybe everyone else would’ve fought him off. They would have _ lived, _not turned to dust in front of Tony’s eyes; he would have died, but what did he have to live for at this point? 

Pepper, he had Pepper. But how did he know she hadn’t turned to dust too? 

He could have stopped that; he’d been _ ready. _ He had accepted his death, and then Strange had to get in his way. Sure, Strange was supposed to have seen the future, was supposed to know how everything ended, but what if he was wrong? _ It was the only way _he’d said, but how could it be when it came at the cost of billions of innocent people? 

Tony slumped down, unable to work any longer; his side was aching, the spot where Thanos stabbed him. But it wasn’t going to kill him, he knew that; and he hated it. 

He _ should _ have died. 

The failure, he could deal with; he’s failed before. Pain? Even better. It’s almost as if he _ likes _getting injured, he’s dealt with it so many times, all the way back to the explosion in Afghanistan that had turned him into Iron Man. But watching people die for him...and living afterward? 

That was his worst fear. 

He’d been living with it for years, ever since New York; the vision right before Ultron had solidified it for him. All the Avengers dead, and him alive. That was the worst part of it, really; that he _ lived. _ It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d died with everyone else...but when people he knew, people he cared for, died in front of him and he _ didn’t-- _

_ I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go-- _

Tony closed his eyes. He’d give _ anything _ to see that kid in front of him, even hear his earnest voice; Peter should have lived, and he should’ve died. That’s what _ had _to have happened, but the smartass doctor had told Thanos to let Tony live. There were three people Tony hated, in that instant: himself--obviously--the Titan, and Strange. 

_ Why the hell hadn’t he let Tony die? _

He understands now. 

_ If I tell you what happens...it won’t happen. _

Whether he was right about that or not, he’d been right about everything else: Tony had had to be kept alive, just for this one sacrifice; he’s been kept alive to die, but he doesn’t have a problem with that. For once, he gets to die, and everyone else gets to live. 

At the same time it’s frustrating. Pepper’s alive, and so is Rhodey, and he’s got Morgan now; he could spend so much time with them, so many years teaching her welding and physics and god knows what else. She’s already so smart; with his and Pepper’s brains combined, she’ll probably be smarter than Tony. And he’ll never see it. 

But that’s a small price to pay. At least they’re alive. 

“Mr. Stark,” reaches his ears, vaguely, as he lies bleeding on the ground. “Mr. Stark, we won.” The voice is cracking now. “Mr. Stark…”

Oh, _ Peter. _The reason he’d gone back in time and done this whole insane job in the first place, that earnest kid who he hasn’t seen in five years, is right in front of him. He’s here, now, absolute proof that Tony did his job. 

And that’s the other thing. He only got to spend a few minutes with him. 

Dimly, he registers that Rhodey is there as well, and Steve, and Thor and Strange...but he only has eyes for Pepper as she kneels in front of him. At least he can focus; for several seconds, and he can see in an instant that she’s holding back her tears, in an effort for him. 

If he had the energy, he’d laugh. She’s always tried--and failed--to keep him from seeing her feelings. 

“Pep…” he whispers. She’s been with him since the beginning; Rhodey, Peter, Steve, and Thor have all joined him since(and Morgan), but he and Pepper go back before he was Iron Man, before he knew what was right and how to be a hero. She loved him even when he only loved himself. 

_ Tears for your longlost boss? _

_ Tears of joy. I hate job hunting. _

And that reminds him of one more person, someone he doesn’t think of as much but who he has never, ever forgotten: Yinsen, the quiet doctor who saved his life, who taught him to put himself last. What had he said, just before he died? Tony racks his brain, not having enough energy to do even that…

“You can rest now,” Pepper says, dimly. He doesn’t even register what it means; he barely hears it. He can’t see her anymore; he is barely existing, and then…

_ Don’t waste it. _

Tony smiles, remembering Yinsen. The closest thing to a mentor he ever had, even if it was for just a few short days. Short; but they changed his life forever. 

The last thing he feels is the burn of the Infinity Stones on his arm; and then, much softer, Pepper’s hand on his chest. She’s with him, even to the end. 

_ Don’t waste your life, Stark. _

There is an orange glow around him; he is standing. Tony looks around, feeling for the burn of the Stones, but there is nothing. No one is there, and it’s strangely peaceful. He’s whole, uninjured; and there is nothing but orange around him. 

At first. 

Then, he sees something ahead: his home, that he has made with Pepper, where he’s been raising Morgan for the last four and a half years. But Pepper and Morgan are nowhere to be seen; instead, as the door opens, Yinsen walks out. Tony’s jaw drops. He hasn’t been surprised in years, but he’s surprised now. 

For several seconds, he and Tony stare at one another. 

“Well, Stark,” Yinsen says. “Did you waste it?”

Tony remembers everything: what he’s done, what’s happened to him, who he saved. He thinks of his whole life--half a power struggle, the other a mess of guilt and fear--and, at last, sees everything clearly: Afghanistan, New York, Ultron, Germany, his fight with Steve, finding Peter and simultaneously finding _ himself _again, Thanos...it has all led to this. 

There was guilt, yes. Fear, yes--but also triumph, and love, and...and peace. 

This is why Strange saved him. 

“No,” he says, smiling at last. “Not a second of it." 


	4. Day 28: Beaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infinity War AU: Loki decides to save Thor just before Thanos arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki doesn't die. That's it, folks.

Chaos. 

That was the only word for what existed at that moment, on the Asgardian refugee ship: pure, awful chaos as warriors fought, went down screaming, as Thanos’ children marched forward with a resolve that rivaled that of Captain America in Germany, as Asgard’s children were struck down just as mercilessly as were anyone else. 

And during all that time, Loki simply stood, frozen in shock and staring as Thanos’ horror unfolded around him. 

To think that he had spent the past six years concocting elaborate schemes just to keep himself away from Thanos’ attention: Failing the attack on New York to escape death at the Mad Titan’s hand. Teaming up with Thor to get himself killed and make Thanos think he was dead Impersonating Odin for four years, which had worked until Thor showed up to ruin everything. And then, finally, his back-up plan: working his way into the Grandmaster’s graces just to stay hidden on Sakaar for all eternity. 

None of it had worked. And it was all because of his stupid brother. Who, somehow, was now the only person in the universe who he cared about. 

Any moment now, Thor was going to be dead. 

_ His own fault, _ thought Loki, watching impassively as his brother took a fist to the face from Cull Obsidian, again and again; yet each time got back up, again and again. Classic Thor. But this time it would be his undoing. _ He got himself into this mess; I did absolutely nothing. Stay out of it, and maybe, just maybe, Thanos won’t take it out on you. _

That was all he was trying to avoid, after all; keep himself away from Thanos’ wrath, just as he’d been doing all these years. Ever since the attack on New York, Loki had been running. And he couldn’t physically run, now, but he could at least keep himself alive.

Survive. That’s all he’d been doing his whole life. It’s all he was good at. 

Loki turned away as another child was stabbed through the chest; _ survive. _If you don’t look, it’s not happening. 

Every day of his life had involved adapting to situations beyond his control. Being excluded from Odin’s affection. Being attacked by Thor...so what if he’d insulted him beforehand? A party in which some poor bastard had attempted to get him drunk, just to see him humiliated; if they’d only known that while his illusion was drinking, he was actually standing around the corner laughing. Thor’s near-ascendance to the throne--well, he felt guilty about that one, but it had been necessary. Odin’s revelation that Loki was not his son. Being forced to attack New York. His mother’s death--

But the one situation Loki could never adapt to was being found by Thanos. Thanos had seen his potential in a moment; but upon Loki’s failure, he had realized that Loki could not do the things he wanted of him. 

_ But who got you into that situation? _ The answer was obvious. _ You did. _

_ Well, really it was Thor’s fault, _ he told the ridiculous voice in his head. _ Like with everything else. He destroyed the bridge; that was his decision, that sent you both nearly to your deaths. _

_ But who chose to let go? Thor was telling you to hold on, yet you let go anyway, out of spite. _

So it had been his fault. What did that matter? He’d spent the rest of that time making up for it. He was looking after himself; he wasn’t going to look after Thor. Thor could do that, or die trying. 

And he would. Though Loki had been trying desperately not to watch, half of his brother’s face was covered in blood now; the God of Thunder was getting up more slowly. 

And Thanos was still not here. He could 

_ But you could be more. _

“Damn you, brother,” Loki muttered under his breath. Keeping an illusion of himself standing there, he moved quickly to where Thor was being positively beaten by Cull Obsidian. What to do? Well; he had a knife, and he’d prepared it. Loki moved behind the son of Thanos, even as Thor was driven to the ground once more; his brother’s eyes were barely open now. 

Better now than never. Loki drove the knife in, relishing the gasp that left Obsidian’s body; he’d always wanted to kill one of Thanos’ children. 

Thor blinked, as if struggling to see; he coughed several times, blood appearing on his lips, before struggling to sit up, and failing. He tried several more times, the attempts looking more like many pathetic stretches, before Loki at last gave in. 

“Oh, you really are the worst, brother,” he said with a sigh, reaching out a hand. Thor took it, frowning as he gripped what was clearly the real Loki. 

“You’re...you’re real,” he coughed. 

“Yes, yes, you moron, what does it look like? Are we getting out of here or not?”

Thor looked as if he were about to collapse; his hand in Loki’s certainly shook, several times, and he had to blink himself back awake. But then, in true Thor fashion, he grinned. 

“Fine by me,” he croaked. “Lead the way, brother.”

But as Loki was about to pull Thor to his feet, there were thudding footsteps in the distance; not overly heavy, nor very loud, or very fast, but large, and definitely, most definitely, approaching. 

Thanos. 

Loki was sure he went white; he dropped Thor’s hand. Unbidden, his memory flashed back to being Thanos’ prisoner in the Sanctuary, informed of what he was going to do and tormented, his mind destroyed until he could do nothing but listen…

“Loki!” 

Thor’s whispered rasp brought Loki’s attention back to his brother, who, while at death’s door, was looking at him earnestly from the ground. 

“He’s not yet here, but we...don’t have long.” He coughed, more blood spraying. “If you have a plan, use it!”

In other words, act; something he’d never done decisively in his life. He’d been more of the type to talk and maneuver and outsmart his way around confrontation until he was no longer in danger; but where Thanos was concerned, that had never worked out for him. 

“All right, brother,” Loki said, “but it’s surely madness.”

Thor laughed, which must have been painful for him. “Excellent! Those are the best kind.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. Thor might be delirious. On the other hand, his brother had always shown a propensity for crazy ideas; the crazier, the better. Maybe it was time to get on board with that. Or maybe not. But whatever it was, he had to act now. 

“The son of Jotunheim.” 

Thanos’ deep, gravelly voice of doom cut through Loki’s thoughts as sharply as one of his knives. His trick had failed; Thanos wasn’t addressing Loki’s illusion. He was addressing Loki himself. Loki had lost...

But he’d come too far not to act now. All he had to do was get away from Thanos one last time. 

“I hope you don’t mind the damage I’ve done to your people.”

“They’re not my people,” Loki said, still facing Thor. “I’m not Asgardian.”

“Not in body, but in spirit. I’ve always seen that about you...son of _ Odin. _” Thanos was playing with his mind. That was all. “Now. I have come here only for one precious item: the Stone. Have you brought me my prize?”

Loki met Thor’s eyes; Thor nodded. He didn’t understand, but he was willing to follow Loki’s lead. And that was enough. 

“Yes,” Loki said, at last turning to face Thanos; at the same time, he reached out his hand, and Thor seized it. 

Then, reaching out his other hand, Loki brought out the Tesseract, the precious item in question that contained the Space Stone. Only he(and Thanos) knew how to use it. Gathering all his considerable strength, Loki crushed the protective shield; the Space Stone fell into his hand, turning it blue in an instant...but he was a Frost Giant. And even as the power shook him, Loki felt Thor’s hand in his. 

He smiled. “But it isn’t for you.” 

_ Earth, _ he thought desperately. _ Earth. Take us to Earth. _

Thanos clenched his fist, and the Power Stone sent waves crackling across the ship, directly for the two brothers. But there was already a portal of blue surrounding them, and in another second they were gone. 

  


Loki and Thor emerged on a cliff of green grass. 

Thor immediately collapsed, groaning to himself, and Loki turned his attention to his brother. His face, to begin with, looked awful, full of cuts and bruises and full of blood; he was sure at least one tooth had been punched out; and then to cap it all off, there were two broken ribs. But nothing more than that. Thor was always stronger than Loki thought he’d be. 

Loki cleaned the blood off his brother’s face first, then studied him carefully. “You’ll be all right, brother,” he said. “We both will. Now that we’re away from Thanos.”

“Where…” Thor murmured, and Loki looked back at him. “Loki?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Loki said. “You were stupid enough to take a beating from Cull Obsidian. I saved us both. You’re welcome.”

“Not…” Thor coughed. “Not without...encouragement from...me.” 

Classic Thor. Never _ thank you, Loki. _ Never _ oh, you’re spectacular, Loki. _

“Are we there?”

“There?” Now Loki was confused. “If you mean Earth, then yes.”

“No...no, I mean…” Thor hacked this time, and Loki was beginning to be concerned before it was over. “I mean...Norway.”

Norway? Oh, yes; the place where he’d sent Odin. 

The place where they’d watched him die, and he’d said he could see Frigga. 

As Loki looked out over the green cliffs, over the sea, he realized suddenly that that was exactly where they were. The only place he and Thor had ever felt truly at peace, where they’d even begun to understand their treacherous father. 

That had been Thor’s vision of a life on Earth. 

And clearly, it was Loki’s too. 

“Yes, brother,” Loki said; why was he finding it hard to talk? Absurd. “We’re here.”


End file.
